Pinwheel Libertines
by Angrybee
Summary: Maybe that's all life was, a whir of unexplainable colors and shapes, rushing past... Beginning at the Guild rebellion, follow the lives of young Dio and Lucciola, as well as Delphine, and Cicada.
1. The Rebellion Begins

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fanfiction, and not to be reproduced except for entertainment purposes. (But, who would?) No disrespect is meant to the creators of Last Exile.

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Pinwheel Libertines

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"Dio! Come away from that window!"

Vanships. So many vanships. He'd only seen one or two before. But now, they were racing all around the Guild Palace, shooting. Pow pow pow pow pow!

"Luric, get my son."

"Yes, Maestro."

Everyone was running around today. Father. Mother. Delphine. Everyone was running around. Dio felt strong arms wrap around him and pick him up. Luric. Luric belonged to father. Father's servitor. Dio kicked as hard as he could. He didn't want to move away from the window. Moving away meant he couldn't watch the vanships race through the sky.

"Look, Luric!" Dio slid around, wiggling like a slippery fish in Luric's arms. "Look! The vanships! How funny they are! How do they work? How can they fly? Tell me, Luric!"

"Not now, Dio-sama. You must come away."

"Tell me now! Please tell me!"

"Soon, Dio-sama. I will tell you on the way. Please, just come away. We must leave."

Dio tried his best, but he could not escape Luric's powerful grasp. He was only five years old, after all. And Luric was...well, ancient. Dio found his head enfolded between Luric's arm and chest, protected. Ah. That's nice. Even though he wanted to see the vanships, being carried by Luric was also nice. Luric smelled like chalk dust, like some sort of light powder, the powder he used on his hands and feet to give them better grip while fighting. It was the best scent, and it made little Dio Eraclea quite sleepy.

"My daughter?" That was father's voice, powerful and commanding. Father ruled the entire world, Dio knew. He was the Maestro, and the Maestro controlled all things. People. Animals. Sky. Water. Weather. Earth. All the claudia in existence belonged to Father. And, after Father, the world would belong to Delphine. Dio didn't quite understand why the world couldn't belong to Mother, too. He'd asked Father once. Father had said, "Because she was born a Lagolale, and not an Eraclea."

One of the servants stepped forward and replied, "Delphine is already aboard her transport vessel, Maestro."

"This is madness. How did they get those ships?"

"Maestro, the Bashianus are using the weather controls to produce cloud cover, and even lightning storms as breaks."

"Then board the weather ship. Arrest them. They are traitors."

Footsteps. They were running now. Faster and faster. Dio tried to move his head a bit to see. Father did not run. Dio had never seen Father run. No, he floated from place to place using Guild technology, translucent bubble-lifts, and tube-transports. These were a much more elegant means of travel. But, no... Father and Mother, both of them were running now, along with all the servants. 

"I didn't know the Guild had so many vanships, Luric," Dio said, pulling harshly on Luric's sleeve in an attempt to get his attention.

"We don't, Dio-sama."

Ah! Oh! Maybe they were all going to see the big ship battle up close. Delphine had told him about the battles. They were glorious productions, so much fun to watch. Much more fun than those stupid dance recitals put on by House Hamilton. Ugh. House Hamilton. Father hated them most of all!

They wanted to run the Guild! But, they could not run it, because Father was Maestro. So, instead, they made all sorts of bad trouble for him. 

"Maestro! Maestro!"

Suddenly, everything came to a stop. Dio looked around. Aha. A lift! They were going to go for a ride on Father's private touring ship! Maybe if he was very, very, very good, Mother would let him fly the ship again, like he did last time. Dio looked over at his Mother. She was carrying...a bag? Mother never carried anything. Her fingernails were too long. Carrying things would break her fingernails. Why would she carry a bag? Why weren't the servants carrying it?

"Report!"

"The Hamilton Main has disappeared. Their last transmission indicated that they wish to remain uninvolved."

Father's lip curled. That meant Father was angry. Dio thought maybe he would hit the servant that said the Hamilton ship had disappeared, but Father only said, "There's no use in looking for them. We'll have to find them later."

"Maestro, we've boarded the Dagobel ships Hermia and Erasmus. We've yet to find the Prisus."

"I want his head severed from his body for this insolence."

"Sir. Several of the minor families are surrendering to our forces. "Conti, Lagolale, and Terbinus ships are all retreating. Shall we call off the evacuation?"

"Lagolale?"

"Yes, sir."

Mother dropped her bag. Dio watched as she backed away from Father. Her face was twisted up. Dio had never seen her face like that, all scrunched and pinched. She put her hands up, fluttering them at her chest, her long fingernails clicking together. "Maestro, you know my loyalty is to you alone!"

"Arrest her! Arrest Secondus Isadora!"

"Sir?" All of the servants looked quite confused.

"Arrest my wife on the charge of treason." Father's hand flew out, and he grabbed Mother by the neck. Dio watched as Mother gasped for air. Mother's left hand pawed desperately at Father's wrist. One of her fingernails broke off and flipped through the air like a propeller until it hit the wall. "Prisus Lagolale would not move against me. Not unless he had conspired with his daughter." 

Mother was turning blue. Dio didn't know people could turn blue. 

Father said, "So, that was your plan, then? Kill me on the transport vessel and then call for a Council of Principals to instate you as a regent Maestro. After that, it would be quite simple for you and your father to claim the title of Maestro for your pathetic House Lagolale."

Mother made a few noises, strange noises, yelps like the animals in Delphine's menagerie.

And then Father made a noise, a deep, braying noise, like a horse. Little Dio decided it must be a game. Dio decided to make an animal sound, too. "Tickity-tee! Tickity-tee!" Just like the pretty orange and black Tyra birds in the menagerie. 

Then Father hissed. A snake noise. Dio couldn't tell who was winning their game. Maybe Mother. She was smiling now, after all.

Secondus Isadora smiled ever more brilliantly as she twisted the knife in her husband's gut. His hand slipped from her neck, and hung limply at his side for the few seconds it took before his knees buckled.

Father fell down. That must be the end of the game, Dio thought. What a strange game. Dio tried to crane his head to see what would happen next, but Luric turned away.

"I want to see, Luric."

"Hush, Dio-sama."

"The Maestro! The Maestro!" There was lots of noise then. Lots of movement. Dio saw some of the Eraclea House Guards rush past.

Dio dug his fingers into Luric's sleeve. Hard. How dare a servant tell him what he could or could not see! Father would punish Luric for disobeying.

"House Lagolale will rise above all! A curse upon House Eraclea!" That was Mother's voice, shrill and wavering. Dio didn't understand what she meant. But, when she screamed, it made him frightened... For the very first time in his life, he was afraid. A bad feeling, like smelling the water servants drank. A sick feeling, knotted tight at the back of his throat. "Let it be known that Secondus Isadora of Lagolale never capitulated!"

Everything went suddenly quiet. 

Someone gasped.

"She's disintegrated..." A murmur rippled all around where Luric and Dio were standing. "Secondus Isadora has disintegrated. Her ring..."

"Maestro Orphael and his wife are dead..."

And many of the servants cried out, "Forever fly high, the banners of Eraclea!" 

While the soldiers exclaimed, "Forever soar high, the ships of Maestro Delphine!"

Luric started running again. His arms were wrapped so tight around Dio that the young lord could scarcely even breathe. Stuffy, so suffocatingly stuffy, the smell of Luric's hand powder mixed with something caustic and dirty. Ash.

"Can we watch the vanships now, Luric?"

"No, Dio-sama." Luric's breathing, rapid and punctuated with gruff pants, created a strange rhythm against Dio's torso. An unsettling beat which made Dio quite uncomfortable. He attempted to squirm again, and Luric eased up on his protective grip on the child. They came to a stop, and Dio looked around. Aha! The hangar. But, none of the star-shaped "Etoile" fighters remained in dock. 

"Are we going on a trip now, Luric?"

"Yes, Dio-sama. We must go to your sister. Maestro Delphine will know what to do."

"What about Mother and Father?"

Dio felt Luric's arms tense. The Eraclea servitor, uncertain of how to explain, finally put Dio down on the ground. "They will come later."

"Ah!" Dio smiled and brushed the wrinkles out of his cloak with two pats, just like he had seen Delphine do. "Good!"

But, Dio wondered how they were supposed to get there. He didn't see any ships at all in the hangar. Just then, one of the lifts moved, the crystal-clear tube sucking the platform up from nowhere. And there, on the glassy dais, sat a green vanship with canary-yellow trim.

"A vanship!" Dio clapped his hands together happily.

The pilot's arm hung at a strange angle, and swung back and forth slightly against the starboard side of the vanship as the platform came to a stop. His head, thrown back grotesquely, sported a slackened jaw and parted lips. A thin line of wind-dried drool clung to the pilot's chin as the two holes on the left side of his neck oozed murky slicks of blood. The navi, on the other hand, was completely missing.

"Luric, what's...?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about, Dio-sama. Just a human corpse."

"Corpse..." Dio didn't know that word. He attempted to walk up to the vanship, but Luric extended his arm in front of Dio to prevent any progress. 

"Wait here, Dio-sama."

Luric walked to the vanship and climbed up to remove the 'human corpse'. It looked to Dio a great deal like a doll, the way it slumped over on Luric's arm. Dio didn't quite understand why the doll was leaking, or why the doll wouldn't talk to them. Dio had a great many questions about vanships, and the best person to ask would be a vanship pilot. But, this vanship pilot didn't move at all, not unless Luric moved him. 

Luric hauled the corpse over to the side of the hangar and propped it up against the wall. By the time he returned, Dio had already rushed over to the vanship and started trying to climb inside. "Luric! Luric! Can we really go in the vanship? Look at all the controls! I want to know what they do!"

"Dio-sama..." 

Dio felt himself being hoisted up and placed into the navi seat. Luric's typically grim face hovered over him. Dio didn't know how Luric couldn't be excited about the possibility of flying in a vanship. It was much more exciting than being in one of the Etoile Fighters. You could actually feel the air on your face as you soared through the skies. 

Within moments, Luric had successfully strapped little Dio into the navi seat, climbed into the pilot's cockpit, and started the engine. Their claudia levels were low, but it would be enough to get them to Maestro Delphine's transport ship...as long as many evasive maneuvers weren't necessary. The lift sprung into action, rocketing the hovering vanship to the flight deck.

"Go fast, okay Luric?"

"Yes, Dio-sama." 

The vanship shot into the air, and banked roughly westward. Luric knew that he'd have his best chance flying straight through the rebels. The mercenary vanships wouldn't shoot at one of their own. Flying through friendly skies would only get him shot down by one of the Etoile Fighters. 

"Luric!" It was true! You could feel the wind on your face in a vanship. All around, the battle raged. Vanships and Etoile Fighters, Guild Mains and Turin class ships exchanged gunfire. Dio could even see the palace guard positioning the shock cannons. "Do you think Father can see me, Luric? Can he see me flying in a vanship from here?"

Luric said nothing as he attempted to bring the vanship to a higher altitude to avoid a spot of heavy gunfire.

Dio turned his body, he craned his head to get another look at the Guild Palace. He was sure, absolutely sure, that Father could see him.

"Look Father!" Dio waved madly at the retreating form of the Palace. "I'm flying in a vanship!"

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"Stay in there! Don't come out." 

"But, I want to come with..."

Cicada's face reappeared, or rather, the silhouette of his face reappeared. Backlit by the bright lights of the kitchen, Tuck couldn't make out any of Cicada's features, not even his eyes.

"We have a duty to House Eraclea, to the Maestro." Cicada growled.

"I can help!"

"You're a runt. What can you do? Stay in the cabinet."

Cicada slammed to cabinet door. In fact, he slammed it so hard that it banged against the wood and slid back open an inch. A thin ray of light cut a vibrant stripe diagonally down Tuck's face. The boy leaned forward, peering into the kitchen in an attempt to figure out the best time to escape.

He could help. Why did Cicada always think of him as useless? He would get bigger. Someday. Someday, Tuck would be of a very big help to someone very important!

This was just like Cicada, too. Always planning something and leaving him out. All of his brothers were the same. Manx had his Etoile Fighter... He was even captain of his unit now. And Keriole was in charge of all of the revolving gunnery turrets on the Celestina. So important!

On the other hand, Cicada was just a minor servant to House Lagolale, a ship security guard, just like Tuck would be...when he got bigger, and older. For now, however, he just cleaned dishes in the kitchen when he wasn't training. But, Cicada was always scheming. Always.

"Shut up," Cicada barked. This, followed by his menacing glare, quieted the other servants in the kitchen. "Those of you who do not want to participate will stay in the kitchen...under guard. And by that I mean, if you try to leave, you will be shot."

"Cicada! This is madness! Know your place!"

A shot rang out. Tuck clutched his ears for a moment, but since he wanted to hear what was going on, he forced his hands down and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Are there any other objections?"

Tuck craned his head a little, because no one was saying anything. He could just barely see Cicada's shoulder next to...hm...one, two, three...four other guards. 

"Good." 

"Cicada, are you certain about the transmission?" Now the guards were conferring amongst themselves. Tuck moved his head the other direction and caught glimpses of the Lagolale serving staff. Most of them looked shocked, or afraid. Tyger, the head cook for Lagolale pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head. Tuck had only ever seen her do that before when she'd received bad ingredients from the human suppliers.

"Yes. The broadcast definitely indicated that Maestro Orphael's assassination was a Lagolale plot," Cicada said.

"Secondus Isadora," someone whispered. The murmur caught on and rippled through the room. 

"Delphine Eraclea will succeed her father. Lagolale is doomed." 

Lagolale was doomed? Tuck bit his lip. Certainly, Prisus Lagolale was... Well, he was demanding, and crass, and cruel. But, without Lagolale sponsorship, Tuck and Cicada would be sent back to the Guild shipyards until they could find another sponsor. -If- they could find another sponsor... 

Tuck attempted to nudge the cabinet open a little more. It squeaked, but no one appeared to notice.

All of the guards were holding air rifles. Normally, they didn't use them for much of anything except scaring off rainbirds which tried to nest in various crevices on the ship. But now, now they were being clutched in a way which made Tuck a bit worried.

Cicada sneered, and glanced in the direction of the cabinet. Tuck pulled the door mostly closed again.

"We have a duty to the Maestro," Cicada reiterated as he shouldered his rifle. "Follow me, or forfeit your chance to prove your worth."

All of the guards looked utterly ready to do just as Cicada said. They followed him out of the kitchen, and then there was silence.

Tuck knew, he knew, he had to do something. Sure, he'd never been really close to Cicada, but they were brothers. Ever since their parents had died in the Etele-Gregor skirmish, they had been together. Cicada looked out for him, in his own staunchly disciplined way. After all, why would Cicada shove him in a cabinet, unless he was worried about Tuck getting hurt? 

Very slowly, Tuck poked the door open. The kitchen staff, calm as ever, seemed nonetheless bewildered. The leaned over each other, whispering quietly, as the one guard left behind glanced from person to person.

Tuck had one thing going for him. He was still quite small. And, because of this, he was able to block the guard's view of him by kneeling on the other side of an island countertop.

Tyger, the head cook, blinked several times when she caught a glimpse of the tiny boy crawling along the floor towards the food-lift. Tuck tilted his head to the side twice, in rapid succession, indicating the guard. A look of understanding crossed Tyger's eyes, and she immediately stood.

"Uh. Um. Beg your pardon," she addressed the guard, "We really must get dinner ready for the Prisus and his family."

"Don't you understand? Either the Prisus is going to be dead in fifteen minutes, or we -all- will be."

"Sir, I do not mean to be contrary. I understand you have your duty, but we, also have a duty. It is our duty to make dinner for the Prisus. Be it war or peace, this is what we must do."

"You imbecile..."

Utilizing the distraction Tyger had created, Tuck quickly passed the guard and made his way between a row of preparation tables. Swiftly, he approached the wall and pressed the button for the food lift. Thankfully, Tyger's argument covered what little noise the mechanism made. Pulling his knees almost painfully against his torso, Tuck squished his body into the lift. When he pressed the button on the outside, the rapid upward jolt almost took his arm off, but he managed to pull his hand back in before being maimed. 

It wasn't until the lift started moving that Tuck realized what a horrible idea this was. The food lift only stopped at one place. The Lagolale family dining room.

What was he thinking? 

Maybe he -wasn't- thinking. Thinking was never really his forte. He -was- a good worker, a hard worker. Before the Etele-Gregor skirmish, his mother had told him that she was always so proud of how hard he worked, how diligent he was, how obedient. 

Of course, disobeying Cicada at the moment somewhat disproved his mother's thoughts. But, still...

They were brothers, after all.

The ship's inner-workings passed by Tuck's face, wires and panels, lighted tubes and vents. They melded together into a blur of colors, like a rapidly spinning pinwheel. Maybe life was like this, rushing past in an amalgamation of incomprehensible hues and shapes. Maybe everyone lived life adrift of all others, just clinging to their knees, hoping for...

Hoping for something better at the end of the ride.

But, what?

The lift came to a sudden stop, and Tuck found himself being stared at by the blinking eyes of a serving girl. A serving girl, who then proceeded to scream at the top of her lungs.

"Intruder!"

As the girl backed away from the food lift, Tuck managed to swing his legs out, and fall onto the floor. Hard. Awkwardly. He rolled onto his back and clutched his shoulder. It was dislocated at the best, broken at the worst. Pain shot into his neck and arm as Tuck moaned. 

Tuck could, through very blurry eyes, see the Prisus stand up so quickly that his chair fell over. The elderly head of House Lagolale stared at the boy who had fallen out of the lift as his wife gathered several small children around her. 

"What is the meaning of this?"

Tuck opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The pain notwithstanding, he had no idea how to explain why he was in the lift. 

"Well? Speak, boy!"

Tuck managed to pull himself into a kneeling position, and, still clutching his shoulder, bowed as best he could. This was the Prisus, after all, and no matter what kind of pain he was in, the situation called for stringently reverent protocol. Tuck lowered his eyes until he could only see the immaculately shiny floor right in front of his knees. "My...apo...apologies...your Excellency..."

Shing. Shing. Fwip. Thump. Fwoosh. Bang!

Tuck looked up, startled. Had he been...shot? His vision clouded over. Could this be...an end to life? How...meaningless. How incomprehensible. Just strange patterns of colors and sounds rushing past, too busy to stop and introduce themselves, too alive to stop and explain existence.

Cicada.

Tuck blinked up at his brother. No. He hadn't been shot for his trespass. It was Cicada...

Cicada's arm. A gun. Cicada's cloak, rippling. And, at Cicada's feet, the slumped form of the Prisus of House Lagolale. Two of the other guards were herding the Prisus' wife and children towards a corner. 

"Contact the Maestro's transport ship," Cicada said to another guard. "Inform her that Prisus Lagolale has been killed for his involvement in the assassination of her father."

Cicada shouldered his air-rifle and turned to look at his little brother. Cicada said, "I guess you're useful, after all..."

Tuck felt his heart soar. Cicada had never said anything quite so kind to him. For once, he had been helpful to -someone-. His life, his effort, had been meaningful.

"...As a distraction."

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In Our Next Chapter: Dio and Luric find Delphine's transport ship. Cicada and the servants who participated in the killing of the Prisus are summoned to the Guild Palace. Tuck/Luciola gets his first look at Dio.

Author's Notes:

As to the names in Last Exile, I've seen many of them spelled in several different ways, but I tried to take the spellings from the best sources I had available at this writing.

I decided on "Eraclea" instead of "Elaclaire" or "Eraclair", because it is spelled thusly in 

I chose "Cicada" over "Sicada", because I think he's actually named after the insect. When Dio names Luciola, he almost chooses the name "Mantis", so somehow I am thinking that bug names are common.

I've decided on "Luciola" over "Luciora", merely because this is how it was spelled in the fansubs I originally watched, and I prefer it.

"Lagolale", I think, is a mis-translation of "Dagobel" which appears on one of the fansubs. I went ahead and made it into a separate house.

I've taken some liberties in fleshing out the Guild, including adding ranks such as "Prisus" and "Secondus" for the heads and second-in-commands of each house. More terms will be added as the story moves along.

I could not find Luciola's age, so I have made him two years older than Dio.

And lastly, I just couldn't conceive the Guild calling their own ships "star-shaped fighters", so I gave them a peppier name. "Etoile" is French for "star", so I think it works. 


	2. The Gardens of Ibildel

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Chapter 2: The Gardens of Ibildel

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Delphine Eraclea hated chaos. The semblance of chaos, the illusion of chaos, this was perhaps alright, but -actual- chaos always proved infuriating. The world was ruled by certain laws, certain natural orders, and those who went against nature were corruptions in the system. Aberrant. Flaws to be plucked out and discarded. Rubbish.

And the scene on the transport ship could only be described as chaos. Even though the rebellion was being slowly swayed under control, things weren't secure, not yet. 

"Maestro..." 

Delphine didn't look up. She wasn't yet used to being addressed as 'Maestro'. She'd only passed Agoon a few months previous. Her father... Her father was 'Maestro', even though she was to rule by his side. 

Of course, she'd been trained, preened, groomed for her entire life for the position. Yes, someone else might have passed the rigorous deathmatch her father had concocted. But, not everyone had Eraclea breeding.

"Maestro Delphine..." 

Delphine waved her hand laconically, indicating that the soldier should continue.

"Luric has arrived by vanship. He has brought Lord Dio."

"Dio..." The corners of Delphine's mouth upturned. A smile, or what passed for one in the world of Delphine Eraclea. "Bring them."

Luric arrived only moments later, carrying the small squirming package of energy in his arms. The moment Dio saw his sister sitting on the raised dais, he leapt down and tore across the room towards her.

"Delphine! Delphine! I was in a vanship!"

Dio came to a halt several paces from Delphine. The look on his sister's face indicated that he should be good, he should be quiet. Something important was happening, though Dio wasn't certain what it might be. Perhaps it all had to do with the fact that they were leaving the palace in the transport ship. Who traveled by transport ship? Nobody sensible, as far as Dio knew. These old hunks of junk were most often used to tow damaged Guild vessels back to port, or carrying other heavy cargo. Dio wrinkled his nose a bit. The place smelled funny, like the time he accidentally set Luric's hair on fire. 

The smell must have been what put Delphine in a bad mood, Dio decided.

Quiet as a creeping skeemouse, Dio toddled up to Delphine's chair and knelt beside it. He looked up at her, blue eyes full of wonder, and waited to be acknowledged.

Delphine's hand moved off the armrest and pulled her brother's head onto her knee. Dio sighed happily. He wasn't in trouble, after all.

"Dio, Dio, you don't understand at all, do you?"

"We went fast in the vanship, Luric and I."

"Yes, yes," Delphine replied absently. A terrible affair, her brother having to be spirited away following her father's assassination and her mother's suicide. Of course, it was her mother's inferior Lagolale blood that had brought them all to such a situation. If only Father had gotten rid of her in some discreet way, and married again into one of the respectable houses... Father was a fool, when it came to social politics. Well, they would have to put on a good show of mourning him. And she would miss him, in her own way. He was, after all, the most brilliant military tactician in the Guild.

But now, now she had the title of Maestro, and she had Dio. Her Dio. A child she could mold, a pupil who believed the sun rose at her feet, and set at her command. What things she had planned for them, what conquests and glory. They would, together, create an Eraclea dynasty which would continue throughout time, and if Delphine had her dithers, throughout space.

Delphine smiled even wider as she brushed her fingers through her brother's hair. So small and delicate. Like her roses, like her birds, Dio needed so much care. 

Something sticky attached itself to her fingers. Delphine looked down, surprised. Blood? Dio was...hurt?

Luric allowed her brother to be hurt? What incompetence!

"Luric!"

Dio sat up a bit and looked at Delphine's fingers. They were dotted with red liquid. Was it...some sort of candied glaze? A treat? Carefully, he pulled at his sister's fingers so that he could lick them. 

"Yes, Maestro?" Luric re-appeared from the dark recesses of the transport ship, and bowed. 

"Blood? You did not tell me that Dio was hurt! What is the meaning of this?"

"Dio-sama was not injured, Maestro." That was, of course, the first thing he'd checked when they got out of the vanship.

"Your blood, then?" Delphine gently pried Dio away from her fingers. He made a face. The red stuff on Delphine's fingers didn't taste good at all. He coughed slightly from the bitterness, and immediately was presented with a glass of water by a nearby servant. 

"Yes, Maestro. I was shot in the arm." The silver-haired servitor turned to the side slightly to show Delphine the hole in his cloak, and the massive blood slick that had begun to permeate the material. Any regular person, or even any regular Guilder, would not be able to withstand such a traumatic wound, and maneuver a vanship at the same time. Certainly, no one normal would be able to continue standing and hold a decent conversation while bleeding so profusely.

"Very good." Delphine smiled her 'forgiving' smile, though what trespass Luric was being forgiven for was unclear. "Father always said that the Gregor Legionnaires were quite sturdy."

"Thank you, Maestro." Quite a complement, Luric knew. He attempted to wrap his cloak around his arm, so that he would not bleed too profusely while being addressed by the Maestro.

"You always served my father well. And, you rescued my brother from possible assassination. You will stay on, in a place of honor, as Dio's tutor."

"I am honored to continue serving your family."

Delphine waved her hand to dismiss Luric, and looked back down at Dio, who had begin to play with his water cup on her legs, rolling it back and forth, and occasionally looking through the end like a spyglass. 

"Do you think Father will come along soon, Delphine? I want to tell him about the vanship."

"Our father, Dio..." How could she even explain it to her brother? He knew nothing of death, understood nothing. Such utter simplicity, how she adored it. Even though Dio himself had been present at the assassination, he could not comprehend the implications. "Father has gone."

"Where?"

"To the gardens of Ibildel."

"I see..." Dio didn't know much about Ibildel, except that it was a place farther away than you could go in any Guild ship. But, Ibildel was a beautiful, grand place, a place of utter magnificence. Mother's lady-in-waiting, Scarab, once said that all Guilders came from Ibildel, and that it was a place all Guilders desired to go. But, why did Father go so far without saying goodbye? Why didn't he ask Dio or Delphine to come along? It didn't make any sense.

Dio sniffled a bit and pressed his face into Delphine's thigh.

"What's wrong, Dio?"

"I wanted to go to Ibildel, too. Can I?"

"Shhh." Delphine entwined her fingers into Dio's hair again. Too much excitement for her brother for today. So delicate, like an orchid, he was the rarest flower of her entire collection. "Dio. Dio. Come."

Dio climbed up onto his sister's lap, and curled himself until his head rested upon her left breast. 

"It is only us now, Dio." She stroked his back. Her Dio, no one would ever take her Dio from her. Together... Together... She would not know loneliness, because she had Dio. Loneliness? Did the thought of such things trouble a creature as mighty as Delphine Eraclea? Surely not. But, they were family, siblings. They had the same blood, the same breeding. No one could ever be Delphine's equal, no one could ever sit beside her, except Dio. "You must promise to be a good boy, and obey me in everything, so that someday, you may become like your Delphine-sama. Do you promise?"

Dio yawned against his sister's body. Of course he would! Delphine was the best, beautiful and kind, and she cared for him, always. "I promise."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"The Bashianus have retreated to the wastelands beyond Dusis. They have taken the weather machine with them. It will be impossible for our ships to penetrate..."

Delphine plucked out petal after petal from her bunch of roses and let them fall softly on top of her sleeping brother. How nice, to have a blanket of petals to soothe Dio in his sleep. She would commission a bed to be made for him, a bed of petals. "And Hamilton?"

"Still missing," the soldier replied. 

"I see." How? How were they hiding? No known Guild technology could cloak a whole fleet of ships. But, more important was the fact that they -were- hiding. They had proclaimed no involvement, but the mere fact that they had disappeared solidified Delphine's theory that of all the major houses, Hamilton was the most instrumental in the rebellion. Prisus Hamilton, her father's arch-nemesis... He would not have sat this one out. 

"And Dagobel?"

"Scattered. Our reports say they've sought shelter among the human populace."

How disgusting. Delphine contemplated for a moment letting them continue to live on the surface, disgraced, fallen, forced to survive like animals. Unfortunately, allowing them to survive would mean they could eventually regroup and try to take the palace again. "Pull the units from any human ship known to be harboring or assisting Dagobel forces. I want all of Dagobel found, and brought to me. They've long been allied with Bashianus. One of them has to know the codes to defeat the machine."

"Yes Maestro." The soldier bowed deeply as others skittered all around him, moving hurriedly through nearby hallways to execute the Maestro's orders. The soldier glanced to the left, and then added, "Maestro, the servants which assassinated Prisus Lagolale have been brought, as per your request."

Oh? Delphine sat up a bit. This was an entirely interesting affair. Apparently, a group of guards and servants had taken it upon themselves to execute the traitors. Delphine smiled widely, freely, and tilted her head to the side. "Show them in."

"Maestro, I must recommend against..."

"Show. Them. In." Delphine tossed a rose at the soldier, smacking him on the shoulder. She did not like it when her orders were disobeyed or postponed due to some mere soldier's doubts.

"Yes, Maestro."

"Luric, take Dio."

The ex-servitor appeared from the wings and carefully lifted the small boy from Delphine's lap, causing an abbreviated rain shower of petals to dislodge and fall around the dais. Dio shifted in Luric's arms, twice hitting exactly where Luric had been wounded. The ex-servitor appeared to make no notice of the fact that he was being kicked in his injury. Luric moved to stand slightly to the left of Delphine's makeshift throne as other servants scurried off to prepare sleeping quarters for the boy.

A troop of guards led in the shackled group of ex-Lagolale servants, all wearing the red insignia of the minor house on their cloaks. Five, in all. No. Delphine tilted her head downwards. There were six. One of them was just too small to be seen at first. A boy not much older than Dio. He had been hidden behind the legs of the tallest one. 

A child? Involved in a retaliatory assassination plot? Even more interesting.

The Celestial Maestro approached them, her hands folded together as if in prayer. All of the ex-Lagolale servants bowed their heads as Delphine cooed, "Let's see. What have we here? Who is the leader of this group? No, let me guess."

Delphine brushed past two of the shackled servants and stopped at the third. The tallest one, with a dark countenance and chiseled, almost marbled features. His posture was impeccable, proud. A house guard, but not born of Lagolale's usual servant stock. No, Lagolale never bred creatures like this. Lagolale bred cowards fit only for intrigue and posturing.

She reached up and caught his chin between her fingers, tilting his head to the side so that his bangs would fall away from his mark. Delphine smirked. The mystery had been answered. "You're the leader, aren't you?"

"Yes, Maestro," Cicada replied, "I am the leader."

"Such a dark tone you have, as if your every syllable is imbued with the specter of death." Delphine ran her fingertip along Cicada's jaw. "You cover your mark. Are you ashamed of what you are?"

"No, Maestro." Cicada lifted his eyes and stared right into Delphine's face. "But, others fear it."

"I see." It did make sense, after all. "I thought all of the Etele Legionnaires were dead. How did you manage to survive? Hmm? Well, it is of no consequence." Quite a specimen, indeed. These other guards must have been swayed by this one's presence. They seemed to be typical sorts of Lagolale servants. One of them was even trembling, but this one...

And the boy...

Tuck tried to remember not to look up. But, it was hard, very hard. He'd never expected to -ever- be in the presence of the Celestial Maestro, herself. Cicada... It all depended on Cicada, what would happen next. 

Nonetheless, Tuck's eyes were drawn across the room, beyond Maestro Delphine, to the servant standing next to the throne. He was holding a little boy, a sleeping boy. Tuck didn't know much about House Eraclea, but this boy...wasn't that the young lord of the House? He seemed much smaller than Tuck had imagined, small and frail. Smaller even than Tuck, himself. Tuck had always thought that all nobles were imposing, cruel types, like Prisus Lagolale, but he didn't think this boy could ever be imposing at all.

One of the other guards discreetly nudged Tuck to make him lower his gaze again, but for some reason, Tuck just couldn't stop thinking about how little that other boy was. Small and serene. Like he didn't even belong in the real world.

"What do they call you?"

"Cicada."

"Cicada," Delphine purred, continuing to violate Cicada's personal space by bringing her face far, far, too close to his. Every soldier in the room had their guns trained on Cicada. "What possessed you to kill Prisus Lagolale?"

Cicada didn't even blink at the question. "Elimination of the threats to your Celestial Majesty is the duty of all Guild members."

One of the guards was shaking so hard, his chains rattled. Tuck did not take this as a good sign. He bit his lip slightly. The extra pounding from his heart was causing his shoulder to ache worse. After Tuck fell out of the lift, before the Maestro's soldiers had arrived, Cicada had shoved Tuck's shoulder back into the socket. After that, Tuck had screamed in pain, and Cicada had slapped him for being weak. Tuck wasn't quite sure which hurt more, having his arm shoved back into place, or being slapped by his brother.

Delphine raised one exquisite eyebrow as her tone took on a sudden harsh turn. "You do realize, Cicada, that the man you killed was my grandfather?"

Cicada inclined his head, a nod, or what passed for one from the stoic guard.

"And, by all rights, I should have you executed for your crime against House Lagolale and House Eraclea."

Another almost imperceptible nod. Delphine tried to search Cicada's dark eyes. Was it that he didn't care to continue living? A death wish? No, something else was going on here. 

Finally, Cicada spoke. "All of Lagolale would have been killed anyway, the servants and guards as well. All death being equal, I prefer to die showing my loyalty to the Maestro."

Delphine clapped her hands, slowly, rhythmically. Clap. Clap. Clap. Nothing pleased her more than terminal dedication. "You shall have another chance to die for me, Cicada. It would be a pity to waste such devotion by having you beheaded just for doing what I would have done, myself."

Tuck glanced up from the floor. Were they saved? The conversation between the two adults was a bit hard to follow, but from what Tuck could tell, Cicada was actually pulling it off. 

"Maestro's mercy honors us," Cicada said, bowing crisply.

Delphine turned and flicked her hand at one of the nearby soldiers. "Unshackle them. Abeille! Sybene!"

A lanky female servant with cropped black hair appeared from the wings, followed by a shorter, but bustier, woman sporting blue coloring on her lips. "Yes Maestro?" they asked in unison.

"Take Cicada get him situated. He is to be my servitor." Delphine looked back at the other guards being freed. "The others can serve as palace guards."

"And the boy, Maestro?"

Oh yes. The boy. Delphine moved to the side a bit, and touched his head, indicating that he should look up. The eyes weren't as dark, or the face as severe, but the family resemblance could not be mistaken. "You are family to Cicada, yes? Brothers, perhaps?"

Tuck wasn't certain if he should respond vocally, and chance angering either the Maestro or Cicada, so instead he just nodded and tried not to be overwhelmed by how much the Maestro smelled of roses. 

Delphine smiled. Not just one, but two Etele Legionnaires. Sure, this small one was a bit underdeveloped, but if all of the rumors and gossip about the Etele Legionnaires proved true, he'd someday be a most extraordinary warrior.

"When we return to the palace, have him trained. I want to give him to Dio as a gift."

A gift? Tuck would be...a gift...to the sleeping boy. He did not know what to think of this. What position did a gift have? Was it better than being a Lagolale guard, or worse? It seemed better, since the person who would be his master would be the Maestro's brother. Still, would this please Cicada, or anger him? His fate uncertain, Tuck bowed as cleanly as he could, and moved to follow the female servant, Abeille.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Abeille moved very deliberately, but her steps were not so quick that Tuck had to run to keep up. Tuck wondered how he should address the woman he was following. He decided that 'Abeille-san' would be appropriate enough, until told differently.

From behind, he could see her fingers, which weren't as elegant as those of a noble, but functional and neat, every fingernail trimmed with precision.

"Is it true?" She said softly, stopping at a door, "You are an Etele Legionnaire, and your brother as well?" 

Tuck nodded, but then realized he was behind her, so she couldn't see his answer. "Yes. Yes, we are."

People generally reacted fairly badly when they found this out. Tuck could mostly get away with just not telling anyone, since he had not yet manifested his mark. But, Cicada... Cicada didn't fool anyone, and as far as Tuck could tell, besides wearing his hair down, Cicada didn't seem to care to try.

"You're a Cordova Legionnaire, right?"

Abeille nodded and reached into a hidden pocket in her cloak. She pulled out a silvery chain with small black beads, at the end of which hung a small purple globe, about the size and consistency of a marble. "Fourth generation in the service of House Eraclea," she replied, opening the door and ushering Tuck inside. Another kitchen, Tuck realized. He'd just left the kitchen back on the Lagolale Main, and now he'd ended up in yet another kitchen. Life liked to move in depressing circles like that.

Abeille turned and bowed, holding the chain up so that the globe swung back and forth in front of his face. "May I?"

Tuck nodded and stood still. He'd met many Cordova Legionnaires before,  
and knew what was coming. As far as he could tell, their faith was fairly harmless, even if some nobles scoffed at it. 

"May your service to House Eraclea and the Maestro be strong, ceaseless, and true," Abeille said quietly, holding the pendant over Tuck's head, so that the marble swung in a circle, drawing a halo in the air. "And may your deeds be reflected with grace in the eternal pools of Ibildel."

The Cordova, Tuck knew, were special favorites of nobles. Not because of their faith, no, they generally hid that aspect of their personality as much as possible. But, the Cordova made good servants because of their family trait. They didn't need to sleep for more than an hour a day. Their bodies were made for efficiency, so that they could continue working without the need for rest. And they were, indeed, tireless workers. Diligent and quietly serene. Perfectly suited for the role they served.

All of the Legionnaire families had some trait to make them useful to the Guild, to give them their place within the society. The Pickerings had lightning-fast reflexes, making them the best Etoile Fighter pilots. The Samita were like ants, able to carry objects many times their weight, which made them good shipyard workers. The Polibashi had tongues like calculators, and an immunity to poisons, allowing them to discern the worth and quality of any food or drink with a simple taste.

The Gregor Legionniares...had no ability to sense physical pain. This caused them to be highly sought-after bodyguards.

And the Etele Legionnaires...every bone, every muscle, every inch of skin, was wired to allow them to be agents of death. They were warriors, but not just any warriors, flawlessly precise warriors. It was said that to watch an Etele Legionnaire fight was to understand the phrase, 'Viewing the Dance of Death". Until the Etele-Gregor skirmish, the Legionnaires of Tuck's family had been sought after by nobles of every house, major and minor, as assassins.

Abeille put her pendant away and nodded, apparently satisfied with her blessing. Tuck figured that the Cordova spent so much time awake, they just had to have something else to occupy their time, their thoughts, so they chose religion. Maybe all that praying had somehow turned their hair dark. Tuck couldn't remember seeing any Guilders except the Cordova who had black hair.

"Come," Abeille said, her voice barely above a whisper, "There is food."

The Cordova Legionnaire turned and made herself immediately busy at preparing a meal. Ginger soy, with roasted oat. Typical fare for servants. Hardy, clean, and filling. Tuck sat on a nearby stool and watched her work. Patience and humility, Tuck knew, were always good choices when dealing with anyone of higher rank, so he decided to wait for Abeille to speak first.

"Maestro is magnificent, is she not?" Abeille asked as she pushed the sizzling oats back and forth with a long stick.

"Yes," Tuck replied. "She's very..." He couldn't think of another good word to describe the experience of meeting Delphine-sama. "Magnificent."

Abeille nodded silently. What else could really be said about the Celestial Maestro? You could comment on her beauty, her grace, her wit, but overall, the Maestro -was- the Guild. To think her anything less than perfect was to leave a smear on their entire race.

"Abeille-san? Dio-sama, is he like his sister?"

"Oh no," Abeille replied, smiling softly. She scraped the oats on top of the ginger soy, and turned to put the plate in front of Tuck. "Dio-sama is a very free spirit. But, it is because he is young, and knows little of the world. Dio-sama is curious, and inventive, and playful. Sometimes, this gets him into much trouble." 

So, this was the type of person Tuck was to serve...as a gift. Tuck didn't know much about being curious, or inventive, or playful. He'd spent most of his life training to be a warrior, like Cicada, or working in a kitchen. Life, to him, was an elaborate ritual of avoiding displeasing superiors or his brothers, and extremely hard work.

"How..." Tuck poked at his food, and then remembered his manners, and stopped. "Abeille-san, how shall I serve Dio-sama? What things should I do to please him?"

"This I do not know, Etele-kaja. You must figure it out for yourself. But, if you train hard, and learn all the many protocols, lessons, and graces which can be taught, you will have your best chance."

Tuck nodded slowly and then returned to eating. A chance... A chance for what?

A better life? A life with some sort of purpose?

Or just a chance to avoid Delphine-sama's wrath?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Cicada followed Sybene through the arched halls of the ship, glancing left and right to scrutinize his surroundings. His plan had worked, and he was now in the good graces of Delphine-sama. Not just her good graces, but he had, within just a few hours, obtained one of the highest ranks a Legionnaire could achieve, servitor to the Maestro.

If only his meddling brother had stayed in the cabinet. Ah, well, it was of no consequence. Either Tuck would learn to live as an Etele Legionnaire, or he would die as a fool due to his own careless foibles. Either way, Cicada would not attempt to change the mind of the Celestial Maestro.

"I do not require rest or quarters. I need only a proper uniform and directions to the guard station of this transport vessel. I must to see to the security of her Celestial Majesty," Cicada said to the woman in front of him.

Sybene stopped walking, and tilted her head to the side, giving him a curt nod of acquiescence. "As you wish."

Sybene led Cicada to a storage room containing uniforms, and opened the door. She halted for a moment, and searched her cloak for an object. A pendant, silver with black beads, and a purple sphere dangling from the end.

She held it up to Cicada, "May I?"

Cicada scowled.

"Foolishness. You may not. Do not produce such items around me again."

"As you wish, Etele-bougu." Sybene bowed her head. 

Cicada grabbed the woman by her chin and tilted her face up, in order to get a better look at the blue color marking her lips. "You are Delphine-sama's lady-in-waiting."

"Yes, Etele-bougu." Sybene blinked several times, but never pulled away. Nonetheless, Cicada could feel her tremble. They always trembled, and their eyes always strayed to his forehead. Cicada glared at the woman. A typical Cordova, with dark hair and hollow eyes forever mired in the murky frivolity of religion. The blue tattoo on her quaking lips signified her station, and her dedication to the Maestro. The pain of taking such a tattoo was meant to signify that she would forever keep the Maestro's confidences, no matter what torture she would have to endure. It was a rare marking for a Cordova to bear.

"I see." This one would be useful, very useful. Cicada eased his grip, but didn't let go. "Tell me. Who is the man who stood upon Delphine-sama's dais holding that child? The Gregor. Who is he? How long has he served? This is something you can tell me, yes?"

"Yes, I can tell you this." Sybene turned her gaze away from Cicada's face. "That is Luric-jikou, formerly Luric-bougu. He has been in service to House Eraclea for thirty years, and was a faithful to servitor to Maestro Orphael."

The old Maestro's servitor, but now merely a tutor. Cicada scoffed at the idea of enduring such a ludicrous demotion. The old man should have been killed for his inability to protect the former Maestro. Delphine-sama's mercy was far too kind. 

But, Cicada would not be so forgiving.

As soon as possible, he had to get rid of that disgusting Gregor.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was three days before the palace was deemed re-secured, and the Celestial Maestro's transport ship could safely return. All of the major houses which had participated in the rebellion were in hiding, and the minor houses were each clamoring for mercy. They sent missive after missive to the palace with excuses. They had been tricked. They had been coerced. They would never turn against House Eraclea, not on purpose. If they could be spared, they would pledge eternal allegiance to Delphine.

Delphine accepted them all back with open arms, on one condition...

In one year's time, all Principals of all the houses which sought her forgiveness would have to convene at the Celestial Palace and prove their dedication in the manner of Delphine's own choosing.

Those who failed to please her, would be returned to their houses in funerary urns.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In Our Next Chapter: Delphine's sinister plan doesn't sit well with Dio, and the pair argue. Tuck/Lucciola tries not to die from exhaustion. And Cicada reveals a thing or two about his motives.

Author's Notes:

Ah! In my last Author's notes, I said that I would call him "Luciola", but someone else pointed out that if I wanted to be in keeping with the insect names, I should call him "Lucciola", which means firefly in Italian, so I shall do that.

I apologize for all the wacky history in this chapter, but the structure I am creating for the Guild is quite elaborate. I guess I threw too much in, this time, but in subsequent chapters, there won't need to be quite as much exposition, I promise. More character interaction, next time.

Just for reference:

Kaja - "Young servant" (Tuck/Lucciola)  
Jijo - "Lady-in-waiting" (Sybene)  
Toji - "Housekeeper" / "Head of household". (Abeille)  
Bougu - "Protector/Servitor" (Cicada)  
Jikou - "Imperial Tutor" (Luric)

In this story, it is common for the servants/Legionnaires to call each other by their family name, followed by their position, if you do not know their name, or wish to signify respect. This is why Tuck/Luccoila doesn't know what to call Abeille, because he doesn't know her position.

Review Notes:

Thank you to all reviewers who have taken a chance on this new story. I thank you for all your comments. So, thank you to: roguehobbit, Nikki, Mun Pai, M.Helen, menecr, Loop E. Rabbit, Sybel Sayrah, Black-Inque2002, MsCongeniality, Sailor-Earth13 


	3. Becoming Luciola: Part One

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Chapter 3: Becoming Luciola (Part One)

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

(Almost one year later.)

"One must understand rank intrinsically, and the positions and functions of all houses and lesser families. Now, let us begin again by reciting the four major houses, then the twelve minor houses, along with the names of each Prisus and Secondus. Below the minor houses we have the recognized families of Legionnaires. Then we shall proceed to the composition and importance of the Principal Council, which under the auspices of Her Celestial Majesty..."

Dio rested his cheek against his hand and sighed quietly. All of this was so boring, so horribly, dreadfully, painfully boring. Luric's toneless voice had a way of making dull things even more dull. Luric hadn't even seemed to notice that Dio had dozed off -twice- now.

Dio didn't dislike -all- of his classes. Flight Theory class was wonderful, even though they were -still- going over claudia manipulation. And in Combat class, Dio had already bested all of the other young Principals and nobles at Elementary Throwing and Grappling.

But, Guild History and Literature, ugh. Most of it didn't even make any sense. Some babble about a 'blue planet' and the 'dying yellow sun'. Half of the time, Ancient History sounded more like listening to Abeille chant to herself when she thought she was alone. And then, Prestel History... So many battles to memorize. So many laws. Dio wasn't sure anything more tedious existed in the world than memorizing laws and codes.

Next year, he'd be allowed to start learning Basic Military Tactics. Delphine promised that she would teach him -personally-. They'd go to watch human airship battles, and discuss their rudimentary tactics together. Nothing sounded more divine than getting to help Delphine, and perhaps be able to garner her praise for being such a quick learner.

"Dio-sama? Dio-sama?"

Dio blinked. How many times had Luric said his name? What was the question, again? 

"Dagobel?" Dio answered listlessly.

Characteristically, Luric didn't change expression. Luric pretty much always looked like he was grinding stones between his teeth. His broad jaw remained permanently clenched, and his brow was always slightly creased in either mild consternation, or the lingering paranoia that assassins might smash through the doors or windows at any moment and attempt to injure his charge.

The -only- time Luric had ever, to Dio's knowledge, changed expressions, was when Dio's Father had given Luric permission to continue the Gregor line. It was the ultimate blessing a master could bestow on a Legionnaire, that the particular servant had so pleased the master, children would be graciously accepted as servants of the master's family. At that moment, Luric had looked...mildly pleased. 

"The Council of Principals sits in the Hall of Light," Luric continued monotonously, neither correcting Dio, nor pointing out that he should pay attention. What was Luric going to do? The six-year-old outranked him by miles and miles.

Dio tried -not- to sigh. Surely, surely, life wasn't -always- this terminally boring. He wondered if Delphine was having more fun right now. She'd been tracking down the members of the Rebel Houses and having them punished. Already, she'd caught half of Dagobel because they'd chosen to hide among the humans. A stupid move, of course. It wasn't like the humans could really protect the Dagobel Guilders from Delphine's wrath.

Less luck was to be found with capturing the rebel elements of House Bashianus. The House of Scientists had retreated to the glaciers beyond Dusis. Etoile fighters, which had been dispatched to scan the area, had not returned. Most officials speculated that the extreme temperatures of the region had caused the claudia manipulation units in the ships to freeze.

As for House Hamilton, they were still nowhere to be found. People were beginning to say that House Hamilton had disappeared off of the very face of Prestel.

Dio didn't really want revenge against the Rebel Houses. Not exactly. They just had to be punished because that was the way it was. You couldn't betray the Maestro and just get away with it. If people could do that sort of thing, then the Guild would just fall apart. At least, that's what Delphine had told Dio. And Delphine knew a lot more about these sorts of things than Dio did.

But, in a small way, Dio wondered if maybe the other Houses could just admit that they were wrong, and then maybe the entire Guild could be reunited once again. It certainly would take a lot of pressure off of Delphine. She wouldn't have to have so many meetings, or spend so much time away from Dio. Delphine was much more fun than listening to Luric drone on and on...

Though, really, what was the point in having the Rebel Houses say they were sorry if they weren't really sorry? And why would anyone want to betray the Guild, anyway? That's what Dio couldn't understand most of all.

Killing the Maestro was like trying to kill the Guild.

Why would anyone want to destroy the Guild?

It didn't make any sense at all. Not to Dio, anyway.

Oh well. He'd have to ask Delphine about it someday. Someday when he was really bored. Like, even more bored than right now.

Wait. More bored than right now?

Impossible.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Seventeen. Tuck couldn't remember all of their names, but he remembered their faces well. Over the course of one year, seventeen other students had fallen to his blade. No. That wasn't quite true. He'd strangled several of them. Some with his hands, some with wire, and one with a length of rope.

There was nothing he could do about it. Tuck had learned quickly that to be in training meant to live each combat lesson as kill-or-be-killed. His opponents were trying to kill him, and therefore, he had to try to kill his opponents.

Other classes weren't much better. One slip, and the instructors were quick to whip any student. And, of those students who survived, some had mental breakdowns, thus proving them unfit for duty. Some had fits of crying, some started screaming, some just went catatonic. Tuck had no idea what happened to the mentally unstable students. They just disappeared, led off by the instructors, never to be seen again.

Tuck couldn't believe how many petitioning students there were at the Palace Legionnaire Academy. All of them were children of Legionnaire families. Most had been sent in the hopes that they could raise in status by serving in important positions at the Palace or on one of the House Mains. Many were orphans, having lost their parents in battles or by other means, who had no other choice in life.

Only a fraction of them ever survived the training.

Tuck did not know how long this training would continue. Since the day he'd arrived at the Palace, he'd never been spoken to by the Maestro again. Abeille occasionally came to check on Tuck's progress, but never had any information about when Delphine-sama might send for him, to present him to Dio-sama. Perhaps never. It seemed entirely possible that Maestro had completely forgotten about the "gift" she'd acquired for her brother.

Tuck bent down to let eighteenth body slid from his grasp. He put his fingers to the side of her neck before turning back towards the class with his hands behind his back. A girl this time. Tuck couldn't remember her name, but knew that she was a Pickering. So fast. Almost too fast to see. She almost had disemboweled him with that last move. The stab at his stomach would have been fatal. But, some sheer luck allowed him to slit her neck before she could strike the final blow.

Luck. Yes. It was just...luck. Lucky for Tuck.

Tuck remembered the first time he'd been ordered to kill one of the other students. Oh yes. He'd retched. He'd been whipped for retching, and for crying. The instructor had bellowed, "Why do you weep, Etele-kaja? You have won! Only the strongest can protect the Great Houses! What fool would cry at victory?"

But, every student cried the first time they killed. And every student was beaten with the whip for crying. Tuck understood now. One of his station could only ever merely hope to be useful. The weak ones would not be useful. If Tuck proved to be weak, he would not be of any use to Dio-sama. Then life would be utterly meaningless.

Tuck ignored the bleeding body in the dirt. His only mild remorse was that he did not remember her name. But, she had fought well, and her death had served to teach them all many things.

Especially Tuck.

"Etele-kaja. Please explain the tactics you used to dispatch your opponent."

Tuck bowed to the instructor and the class. The scent of blood began to fill the mock-arena where combat class was held.

"Although the Pickerings have lightning-fast reflexes, they are not built for prolonged combat. This may be because time limits on Etoile missions have caused them to become attuned to not conserving their strength. We are unsure. At any rate, one need only cause a Pickering to exert all her energy. She will then slow significantly. This is why I was able to get in the last blow."

Was it? Was that why he was still alive?

Tuck knew it was all a lie. He was merely making things up. Tuck should have, most definitely, died by that girl's blade.

"Correct." The instructor held up his hand to the class seated on the sidelines. "Learn well from Etele-kaja's actions. You are dismissed to your next class."

Tuck headed for the baths. He would need to clean his clothing and himself before heading to Etiquette class. As he passed a garbage unit, he thrust his hand inside, and dropped a tiny object into the pile of trash.

The student baths were not, by any means, unclean. But, they certainly weren't the grand chambers of sparkling water and polished marble afforded to nobles. All things provided to the students were of the most functional aesthetic. Simple lines, with no embellishments. The re-water purification systems for each shower unit looked like silver humps against the pristine white tile. Tuck took off his combat-training uniform and hung it neatly in the upright cleaner, an oval-shaped pod against the wall. Suits -could- clean themselves, to some degree, just as most Guild technology could, but the blood required extra care and sanitization.

Tuck went to stand next to one of the re-water units. The water came out at a precise and steady temperature calibrated against several factors, such as Tuck's size and age, heat conservation equations, and the necessity for purification cycles. The temperature never wavered by even a fraction of a degree. If anything, Guild technology relied on precision.

Tuck leaned his forehead against the tile for support. The odd sensation of coolness contrasted with the warm flow of water against his skin. One's body could be so whimsical, Tuck thought. So whimsical, in fact, that mere temperatures could evoke memories of others. Tuck had few memories of his parents, but he could recall someone bathing him in the rather putrid water afforded to the shipyard workers. Was it his mother who bathed him? His father? One of his brothers? Tuck couldn't remember. He just remembered the door being thrown open, and the angry voices that followed.

A brusquely mechanical voice stated, "Purification begun. Intake exhibits trace amounts of blood. Should the Medical Unit be contacted? Current response time for a Medical Technician is seventy-six seconds..."

"No," Tuck replied quietly to the computer, before reaching out to touch the panel which would shut off the audio feedback unit. Showers could be especially infuriating, talking endlessly whilst one tried to shake off the stink of death, the gloom of the past, and the stress of daily life.

"I wouldn't trust the Medical Units, anyway. They are all adjuncts of the traitorous House Hamilton. Thankfully, Maestro has some more loyal Technicians being trained as we speak," a familiar voice intoned from somewhere behind Tuck.

Tuck peeled his head from the tile, and turned around to find his elder brother watching him from the space between two upright cleaning pods.

"Cicada!" Tuck bit his lip before he blurted anything further. Then, remembering himself, he bowed. Cicada was not only his brother, but his superior. As he stared at the floor, water sluiced off of Tuck's naked limbs, and dripped from his bangs and chin. But, every drop was pulled, as if magnetically, towards the drain leading to the re-water purifier.

Nothing should be wasted. All which can be of use, should be made to be of use.

At least the water purification units -had- a use.

Cicada. He hadn't exactly coddled Tuck during this time of training. Over the past year, Tuck could remember seeing his brother less than a dozen times, and most of those were from a distance. Not that Tuck could really blame Cicada. Cicada was very important now. He'd made himself indispensable to Maestro Delphine. Who knew what massive percentage of Maestro's commands began with an utterance of Cicada's name? Many, to be sure.

Cicada clicked his fingernails together, as if trying to clean them of an obnoxious presence. His dark eyes stared at Tuck, into Tuck, and through Tuck. As for the naked boy in the shower, Tuck tried not to squirm. Cicada was scrutinizing him, Tuck knew, and it didn't help that Tuck had nothing with which to cover himself. He ended up focusing his gaze somewhere around Cicada's collar. Neither brother spoke.

In the garbled tongue of the Etele Legionnaires, a language used for assassination missions, this moment is known as "Kesfefa mi takarh. Sha torhular ri akitra." Loosely translated, it means, "Neither party will speak until the field of combat is surveyed."

"I watched your training battle," Cicada finally said, his words as punctual and brisk as a Dusis winter. "It is displeasing to see how little you have learned in a year."

"With respect, Elder Brother, did I not win?" Tuck found himself grinding his teeth. How odd it was, indeed, this feeling. To address his brother with such formality, and yet feel so strangely overjoyed that Cicada had even appeared, that Cicada had taken time just to speak to him... What was this feeling? Why was the mind so fickle that it wanted Cicada's approval?

"A victory by such luck is hardly a tactical accomplishment." Cicada's features grew only darker with this pronouncement, and he looked towards the door shiftily. "You've grown taller, yet you are still scrawny and weak. How revolting."

"I am not yet of an age where my features..."

Cicada lifted his hand to signify silence. "And your is etiquette astoundingly bad. I long feared that your time among the Lagolale had permanently damaged any chance you had for becoming a decent servant. I should have..." But, for once, Cicada held his tongue.

But, Tuck knew what his brother was going to say. Cicada wanted to say, "I should have left you at the shipyards." It didn't hurt Tuck to hear this. What hurt was not knowing if Cicada wanted to leave him behind because he was embarrassed by Tuck's ineptitude, because he simply hated to be bothered by his filial duties, or because he seriously and sincerely cared what happened to Tuck.

Not that the last option was very likely, nor did Tuck hope that it would be true. Nonetheless, he often wondered if maybe, just perhaps -maybe-, Cicada cared about him.

Tuck had long since realized that even if Cicada -did- care about him, it was probably something Cicada saw as a flaw in himself. Something Cicada saw as 'needing to be rectified'. Something Cicada probably tried, most fervently, to stop doing.

"Don't get killed," Cicada muttered abruptly as he pulled himself from against the wall and headed for the exit. His black-wrapped braid, the sign of his rank, bobbed like a cork in a whirlpool as he walked. "I do not have time to perform the requisite mourning rituals."

Tuck merely bowed at his brother's retreating back. "Yes, Cicada. I understand."

Tuck thought he did understand. He understood that, even though he never saw Cicada, his brother's presence loomed large over his life. He never interacted with his brother. Tuck was not praised or encouraged by him. Tuck sometimes believed that Cicada was trying to forget about Tuck's existence. Still, Cicada always seemed to be...nearby, somehow.

Everything about Cicada was a mystery to Tuck. What did Cicada want? Why didn't Cicada send him back to the shipyards? Was Cicada just bloodthirsty? Or, did Cicada actually believe in something, something which drove him to achieve all that he could in the service of the Maestro? Cicada, Tuck's closest family member, was as strange and foreign to Tuck as a Norikia vanship pilot might be.

And yet, somehow, Tuck just knew...

When extra bandages appeared under Tuck's pillow after he'd been injured in a fight...

When Tuck found extra food ration slips in a deserted hallway...

When a young Pickering combatant faltered in her final blow due to a tiny, almost invisible, paralyzing dart stuck in her neck...

It had something...

No, everything...

To do with Cicada.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"My Dio..." Delphine smiled and held out her hand for her brother. My, how fast he was growing. How pretty. Such trusting eyes. Delphine could not calculate the worth of her brother in claudia. There was not enough on all of Prestel. Dio, her Dio, looked at her with more sincere worship than any Guilder. He adored her for more than her rank. He adored Delphine for Delphine.

So precious. She would most certainly protect him, mold him, and raise him to be the greatest Guilder in all of Prestel history. Their dynasty would leave a millennia's legacy upon this forsaken planet. She'd already made plans. And Delphine's plans were always flawless.

Dio took his sister's left hand and pressed it to his cheek. Her garden gloves were so silky and cool. They smelled of mint plants from Oglan. Delphine had an amazing brilliance when it came to the flora of Prestel. No one even taught her. She'd taught herself everything she knew about plant manipulation. Dio knew his sister was smart. Even smarter than the supposedly genius scientists of Bashianus or the wise philosophers and healers of Hamilton. Much more clever than the engineers of Dagobel!

"Delphine, it was so awful. Luric lectured for an extra hour and my foot fell asleep, and I thought for sure that I was just going to die from boredom..."

Delphine cast a look of disapproval at Luric. Not that she could really punish him for doing exactly what she told him to do. Nonetheless, the Imperial Tutor inclined his head in slight apology for his nonexistent infraction.

"Delphine! Delphine! Can I feed them? Your Synaga Eels? You promised that..."

So excited about everything. His excitement for the world was so infectious. So infectious, it made Delphine almost giddy, herself. How could she not give Dio the world? How could she deny him anything?

"Yes, you may feed them. Abeille! Bring the food. Sybene, Dio's gloves."

"Yes, Maestro." The two servants disappeared into the shadowy corridors at the back of Delphine's personal receiving hall.

Dio, on the other hand, spun around with glee and practically skipped toward the special display tank. "How pretty they are," Dio murmured as he pressed his nose against the glass. "Did you really raise them from hatchlings, Delphine?"

"Of course. They were no larger than your littlest finger when they were given to me by Principal Minerva Hestria on the occasion of my eighth birth week."

Dio watched as the eels, now as long as his arm, fluttered gracefully past his face. Their long bodies rippled like ship banners. Synaga Eels were some of the rarest creatures on all of Prestel. You couldn't find them in the wild, oh no. They had been bred by the noble houses of the Guild for generations. A single mature Synaga Eel in one's receiving room was a sign of great status. And Delphine, of course, had a dozen of them.

Sybene returned first, and knelt in front of Dio to assist him with his heavy gloves. Synaga Eels were not known to randomly attack Guilders. Nonetheless, care would need to be taken, due to how frenzied the eels could become when fed. Then Abeille entered, carrying a gold-rimmed platter topped with carefully arranged slices of raw meat, filleted thin, still juicy with a small amount of blood.

"Luric, assist Dio. I shouldn't wish for him to fall," Delphine ordered as Dio wobbled a little on his way up the steps to the back of the elaborate tank.

"Yes, Maestro."

How festive, Delphine thought. This reminded her of a lesson she'd had as a young Principal. Something about young humans climbing up ladders to decorate trees for some winter holiday. Except that the trees the humans used were terribly common, and no one on Prestel had a collection of Synaga Eels like Delphine.

Abeille handed the platter up to Luric, who in turn held it up for Dio, now at the top of the steps. Dio took a second to wave at Delphine on the floor below him before turning his attention back to the eels.

Dio picked up the first strip of meat and dangled it over the tank. The moment a drop of blood hit the water, the eels came racing, their jagged teeth gnashing and grinding as they honed in on food. Dio giggled and dropped the meat. He liked watching them fight for it. Sometimes they'd even inflict injuries on one another by accident in their blind race towards the meal.

"This is so much fun, Delphine. I want to raise eels, too!"

"Of course, Dio. Abeille..." Delphine motioned absently at the dark-haired Cordova with her folding fan, "...eels for Dio."

"I'll make the arrangements straightaway, Maestro."

Delphine smiled her tiny smile of approval. Anything, anything Dio should want, Dio must have. "Be careful, Dio. If you feed them too quickly, they will become ill. They really have no sense. Vicious creatures, but not a lick of sense."

Dio immediately began to feed the eels at a slower pace. When he was done, Luric lifted him down off the steps so that he and the Maestro could stand side by side and watch the eels race around, chasing yet uneaten morsels of food.

The empty platter was returned to Abeille, who bowed and retreated towards the kitchen. Once there, she opened the garbage chute and shoved the expensive platter inside. These particular dishes were made from pressed Anatore soapstone, and tended to soak up the juices of whatever might be placed upon them. They made for beautiful display pieces, but generally became useless after just one meal.

Yes, It was useless to try to clean the plate...

And, certainly, no one would want to eat off it again.

The odor of rotting human flesh would cling to the priceless platter no matter how much she scrubbed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Hamilton Main, also known as the Aristotle, had long since come to rest in the uninhabitable wastelands of Tobiah. There, along with the second, third, and fourth ships of Hamilton, the House of Philosophers and Healers had begun to settle in for a very long wait.

For the lands of Tobiah were uninhabitable by humans, but Guild technology would surely allow them to conquer their terrain.

Gita Cordova peered out one of the circular portholes of the landed ship. The swampy jungle did look fierce, but one must have faith in the Wisdom of the Ancestors to have brought the great House Hamilton to this place. Surely, however, the outdoors was no place for the twins. Not here.

"Gita is thinking," Max whispered to his brother. "Gita is brooding."

Dex smiled and entwined his fingers with his brother's. They hated to go even a few moments without touching. Dex laughed silently, his whole body quaking with soundless mirth, and then flopped backwards onto the massive bed the pair shared.

"Dex thinks you worry too much, Gita," Max said, turning to curl up next to his brother.

"I think Dex-sama worries not enough. Surely the atmosphere outside is caustic. Look at that yellow haze. This place can't be healthy," Gita replied.

"The swamp animals do just fine."

Gita worried at a chain which she pulled from a small pocket on her uniform, and began counting off the Precepts of Ibildel wordlessly. She was holding a grudge against Prisus Ky Hamilton at the moment. Just a small one. Just a wish that he had taken, perhaps, a different road. A safer one. Not for her sake, but for the twins.

Perhaps she -was- too attached to her charges. But, she'd raised them from the hour they were born. Their mother had died only a few moments after Daxandros and Maxander came into the world. For almost eighteen years now, they had been the full measure of her cares and concerns.

Before that, she been companion and lady-in-waiting to the twins' mother, Sonya. From her youth, Gita had looked after children of House Hamilton. She had never known another House besides Hamilton, or another task besides caring for these nobles. Almost fifty-five years of service, and Gita took pride in every day of it. Perhaps her body had grown somewhat matronly, perhaps her eyesight was not what it once was, and perhaps her bad knee pained her from time to time... But, Gita Cordova trusted that the Wise Ancestors would give her strength to continue in her work until the time came to die to protect her charges.

Nonetheless, this whole rebellion, this betrayal of the Maestro struck Gita as highly...highly... It was just...so dangerous and...

"Dex wants to know if you are having a crisis of faith, Gita. Do you not believe that the Ancestors will, ultimately, lead us toward the path of Harmony?"

Gita pried herself away from the window, and crossed the darkened chamber to sit on the edge of the bed. The twins... They were so precious to House Hamilton. To look at them now, and see how they had grown... Max looked almost regal with white his hair put in a braid. His eyes, lacking pupils, reminded Gita of looking out a porthole at the empty sky. So wise he had become, so tempered from his frivolous days as a child who would scream endlessly if separated from his brother for even an instant. Now, he had a confident and refined look to his face.

And then there was Dex. He had never lost his good humor. A cherubic face with too-pink cheeks, and an eternal smile... A smile to grace lips which never spoke... Wild wisps of hair like a fern in bloom... Gita couldn't tame it no matter how much she brushed. But, what magnificent hands he had. Slender and graceful, with perfectly tapered fingers. Hands which could heal any injury.

How special her charges were. Dex the mute healer, and his older brother, Max the blind telepath. It was said that only one out of a hundred of the bloodline of House Hamilton still exhibited these traits, these genetic anomalies. And here, in one generation, two children, these brothers, had both inherited the Blessings of the Ancestors.

"We are safe here, Gita," Max finally murmured, sitting up to blindly press his face against Gita's back. He rubbed his nose against her spine and sighed. "Dex says that we are safe because you are ever vigilant to make it so. We know that Gita would lay down her life to protect us. We know."

Gita looked down to see Dex's head as he scooted to place it upon her knee. The mute boy smiled up at his former nanny, and now governess. His carefree and gentle smile caused Gita to exhale slightly in relief. She brushed her fingers through his wild hair, trying to get it away from his eyes. Dex's eyes...

They were, after all, the pair of eyes that both boys had to share.

"You shouldn't worry about House Eraclea. Not now. They have other things on their minds besides finding us," Max whispered against Gita's shoulderblade.

Dex reached up to touch Gita's cheek with utter fondness. A feeling of warmth and tenderness rushed through her flesh. Dex was trying to heal her, heal her of worries. The poor boy didn't understand that some ailments just couldn't be rectified by his touch.

"And you should not worry, Gita, for another reason..."

"Mmm?"

"The One Who Sleeps likes this place. The greenery of the vines and overgrown trees. The animals, the birds, the sound of the slowly moving water of the swamp. I let her see it through Dex's eyes, and she told me she wants to stay."

Gita felt a lump form in her throat only seconds before Dex's hand trailed down her chin to touch her neck.

He smiled even more broadly as his lips formed silent words which were voiced by his nearby brother.

"Alvis wishes to stay."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In Our Next Chapter: Dio and Delphine have a falling out which leads to Dio and Tuck (then renamed Luciola) finally meeting. Cicada's motives for becoming Delphine's servitor become more clear. House Hamilton has a meeting to decide the next move of the exiled Rebel houses.

Author's Notes:

I didn't get as far as I wished with this chapter, so this is actually only the first half of the chapter. I apologize, but thought I'd go ahead and post this much for those who were waiting.

Synaga Eels: The eels have been bred by Guilders for many generations, and now only eat human flesh. This is believed to have begun when Guilders wished to dispose of bodies of humans which were "in their way". Later, Guilders would simply pick up unidentified or unclaimed bodies from battles, and put them on ice until needed. A Guilder displays a Synaga Eel to prove that they are, well, rather ruthless. The eels are meant to intimidate.

I got this idea from one of the episodes, where you briefly see some sort of fish or eel swimming around in the room where Delphine is standing.

Alvis: One might wonder how Alvis can be around at this point in the story. It is not in error. More will be revealed about Alvis later.

Gita: Gita is, in the series, Alvis' nanny or caretaker. She dies in the third episode when Ralph Wednesday (vanship pilot) is trying to bring Gita and Alvis to the Sylvana. Her part is really small, so I thought I'd put this reminder in here of who she is.

Reviews: Thank you so much for all of your reviews. I'm glad so many people are enjoying what I thought was a pretty boring story. Hopefully the next chapter will be pretty exciting. So, thanks again to: Deshi, Yma, Brittanga, Christy, Sybel Sayrah, MacroLuvr, Takma-rierah, Syphora, MissSpiritawtheCream, MJP, roguehobbit, M.Helen, ShadowCrow25, Black-Inque2002, Gaara-chan, and Sailor-Earth13.


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